


The Personification of Night Vale

by ClassicalTorture



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Is A Personification Of Night Vale, hetalia reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassicalTorture/pseuds/ClassicalTorture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every city and country has a personification. Cecil is Night Vale's. He feels every person in there, when they are born and when they die. Cecil loves everyone in himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

   Cecil feels… well everything really. He knows when a person is born in Night Vale General, and when one dies out in the Sand Wastes. Cecil sees what the Sheriff’s Secret Police is up to, and when they are about to raid someone’s house for having contraband wheat and wheat by-products in their pantry.  He knows and sees it all. Cecil is intimately connected to each and every citizen of Night Vale. He was born and had died so many times already he would need at least 30 thick illegal notepads to write down the whole number. 

   Cecil doesn’t really know when he started to exist. He remembers opening his eyes and feeling the small number of people around him, gathered with fear and glorious delirium in their eyes, as they stood around his form in the center of the blood stone circle.  Cecil looked at them, and they looked at him, and he smiled.

   Sometimes when Cecil is bored he lets people find him and in turn, Night Vale. You can’t really blame him for it. A person can only handle so much mundane and boring days before some sort of entertainment has to be created. The Vague yet Menacing Government Organization had been one of those attempts, and it has been one of the most beneficial ones so far. 


	2. Chapter 2

   When Cecil doesn’t feel well, it rains. It rains heavily and for a long time, because Cecil is never upset at anything for a small and stupid reason. He gets upset when his children are hurt. And he is sad when slowly the town becomes smaller and smaller, weakening him, and only letting him manifest every other week for a few minutes. 

   When he was younger Cecil had a show that would last hours every day, filled with music and news, stories and editorials, guest and surprise visits from friends. Now he is always in the station, sitting in front of his microphone with his eyes closed and consciousness bound. He gathers information, feels the pain and happiness of his people, feels their occasional despair and fear, and a much rarer bout of love.

   When Cecil used to come out of the station and spend time outside he would get flooded by people who all sought to talk to him and maybe try to terrify them into letting them go out of town. He just smiled at them, and later told his listeners all about the warm welcome he received that day, Now he’s lucky if an intern or two bring him coffee. Not that he really needs it, but he likes it. He likes to know someone still remembers him.


End file.
